Captain
by LadyKatie
Summary: Quirky Captain Jack and the barmaid! Just a silly one-shot!


Disclaimer: I don't own _Pirates,_CaptainJack, or the line "But you have heard of me." I'm not making money off this silly little fan fic (don't I wish!) and no copyright infringement is intended.

A/N: Hello! Although I've been a fan fiction addict for quite a while, (both reading and writing them) this is the first one I've ever posted. Reviews are, of course, greatly appreciated. I usually do mostly Harry Potter stuff, so that's likely where you'll see me in the future, unless inspiration strikes elsewhere. Hope you enjoy!

I first met him in my bar. I was running the counter. I always ran the counter. Working tables was the whores' job, and I certainly was not one of them. I'm no lady neither. I'll admit it: I run a brothel (and a fucking good one at that!) but there were certain levels that even I won't sink to and one of them is bein' a whore.

So I was workin' the bar, as usual—"Hey bitch! Another shot!" "Call me that once more and you'll get shot!"—and who walks in but this tall, dark and handsome sailor. I knew he must be a sailor because he walked like he'd been on a boat for months. We liked getting those types in—they were willing to pay anything for a night with one or two of my girls. But from the looks of him, I thought he might be better suited for Sammy. Sammy was a big bloke who did the dishes, broke up fights, and liked to earn overtime if a customer wanted something extra kinky. Yep. Definitely Sam's type.

"I'd like a bottle of your best rum."

I got out the best and poured a shot.

"Ah, now there's a man I can admire."

Was he pointing at the rum bottle?

"He knew how to command respect. You never hear anyone forgetting his name, do you? Never Mr. Morgan, is it? Or Sir Morgan. Never would someone—who wanted to keep his hide, mind you—refer to him merely as Morgan. No. Always Captain Morgan or not at all. As it should be."

By this time I had finished off his shot and would need much more if this conversation were to continue…of course he sounded like he'd had enough anyway.

"Interesting theory. The rum bottle of authority. Hm. And you are?"

"_Captain_ Jack Sparrow at you service."

"Ah, I've heard your name before."

"I should say you have. I'm famous."

"I don't know about that. I think I heard it from a pirate up from Tortuga. Said you stole his ship—and his woman. He might still be in town."

Jack's eyes widened slightly, but then he continued as if the news hadn't bothered him in the least. "But you have heard of me." He smiled and took a swig of rum. "She didn't like him anyway," he said bending toward me, whispering, "he's a eunuch."

I could prove otherwise, but I chose to let him remain in his world of fantasy and went back to my other guests. Jack sat at the bar for a long while watching the goings on as he finished off the bottle of rum. He became particularly interested in one of the girls. As she came back downstairs with a customer, two others—one a proud member of the British Royal Navy and the second the local blacksmith who got a discount at my place now because of his frequent patronage—began to fight over who would have her next. Sam decided the match when he pulled her off to the side and announced that he was claiming her for the night and anyone who cared was welcome to challenge him. No one did.

Finally Jack turned toward me again.

"What's a guy gotta do to get some company around here, love?"

"Just approach one of the girls. Most are available it looks like."

"Not my type."

"None of them?"

"No."

I was right. Sam. "So what's your type then?"

"Oh they usually have long, black hair. Green dress, tight corset, overflowing breasts. Savvy?"

I raised an eyebrow in mock surprise.

"They tend to serve drinks at the bar and give me funny looks, but always end up screaming my name before the end of the night. You know where I might find of those?"

"I don't know. I think maybe you're askin' a bit much."

"You wouldn't want me to spend the night all by me lonesome, would you?"

"I'm not a whore."

"Well that's good because that's not what I'm looking for, love."

Five minutes later I was undressing him at my bedroom door. Other than an odd phobia about losing his hat, I found his company to be rather enjoyable. Not too rough. Not too eager. Just right. I always hated it when sailors acted as horny as they were. Jack had a surprising amount of control, considering he looked as out of control as a person could get. Good kisser though.

"Oh Jack…"

He abruptly stopped kissing my neck and his hands froze half way under my skirt. I did say the correct name, right? I know I did. What's the problem?

"That's _Captain_ Jack if you don't mind, love."


End file.
